Taste and Touch
by KimiruMai
Summary: Sometimes his Saiyan senses drove him crazy. Written for the Blue and Black Livejournal Community.
1. Smarties

**Okay, so this is just a drabble that has nothing to do with any of my other fics. It will have five chapters, mostly short.\. Done for the Blue and Black Livejournal Community Senses Challenge.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ**

**Prompt: Taste**

**Review! **

**~KimiruMai**

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**Taste and Touch**

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**Chapter 1: Smarties.**

His fingers stretch out to caress the sides of her face, so softly that Bulma immediately is reminded of feathers. Her blue eyes, wide with both surprise and awed excitement, rise up to study his features. She is shocked to find his normally harsh look gone, replaced by an almost tender expression blended with longing fascination. She hadn't known he was capable.

His hands, those scarred, calloused hands that hold her face so gently, pull her closer until their noses are touching, their lips a hairsbreadth away. Both of their mouths are open slightly, and Bulma feels his warm breath on her skin. His eyes are half lidded, his thick lashes covering his dark eyes as they fall to her pink lips. "Damn you," he whispers. "Why do you do this to me?"

Their eyes close as their lips brush ever so slightly, and he runs his fingers through her hair. "I don't understand," Bulma says, her voice just barely above a whisper, breathy. "What have I done?"

"Your scent," Vegeta breathes, "it drives me wild every time I catch it. I've seen you every day since I came here, and yet recently I can't see you enough. I know where you are every second of the day. You're in my thoughts every time I pause my training to catch a breath. What have you done to me, Woman?"

"I'm not a witch," she answers against his lips, eyes still daintily closed.

"You must be," he murmurs. Their lips meet briefly, so gently, wonderfully, and he only pushes away for a moment to say, "You've bewitched me," before he kisses her until she runs out of air.

After that it is a battle of tongues. The gentle kisses grow rougher, and his sharp teeth graze her bottom lip. She opens her mouth, granting him access while still fighting for dominance. One of his arms rise to balance them against the wall, and her hands delve into his silky, wild hair. She loves the feel of it in her hands, loves that she can pull on it without hurting him. She traces the curves of his abdomen muscles with her fingertips as his free arm wraps around her back and yanks her to him. It strikes her then how enormous he is compared to her, how defined his body is. She loves that his torso is big enough to swallow her small frame whole, and yet how slim his waist is, how he is just the right height, just an inch above her, and she wonders what took her so long to see just how gorgeous this man really is -

He pulls back suddenly and looks at her, her chin in his large hand, at least three times the size of her own. His dark eyes meet her sky blues, glinting with both lust and fierceness. He stares at her, making her feel breathless, his onyx orbs digging into her soul. His thumb brushes her bottom lip, which falls open at the contact, and he leans forward slightly. Very seriously, he looks her in the eyes again and says, "You taste like Smarties."

Bulma laughs then, because she knows that he will be irritated with her for eating his favorite candy and not sharing any with him. Smiling, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small object. Plastic flutters and crackles softly, and Bulma holds up a tiny, red tinted tablet of sugar to his lips. Vegeta smiles, just a little bit, and takes it out of her fingers with his teeth, his eyes never leaving hers. Bulma giggles again and pops an orange one in her mouth. It melts on her tongue.


	2. No Peeking

**A/N: Part two of my drabble Taste and Touch, written for the Senses Challenge of the Blue and Black Lifejournal Community.**

**Prompt: Sight**

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**Chapter 2: No Peeking. **

He watched from the branch. He lay on his stomach, one arm propping up his chin. His knees were bent, legs crossed, bare feet pointed towards the sky. His hair carried about in the wind gently, and a few chill bumps sprouted on his arms as the breeze cooled his sweaty body. The bare skin of his chest felt uncomfortable against the bark, but he'd learned to ignore it. It had become routine for him, being in this tree at this hour.

The female moved around in her room freely, completely unaware of his presence. Her baby pink silk robe fell just past her knees, and her hair was dripping wet as she came out of her bathroom. She went over to her dresser and rummaged around in her drawers, pulling out a shirt and some shorts and -

He cocked his head slightly, still resting on his hand, though this time in a sort of slant that would be reminiscent of a pillow. His eyes were closed, and would only open when he heard the ruffling of garments stop. A small dirty-minded part of him wanted to peek…he was only male, after all, but he wasn't a pervert. He waited an extra minute before he looked again, then pressed his lips together and breathed out slowly to repress a slightly relieved sigh. He never noticed when he was holding his breath until he let it out.

Her body was now covered in a white tank top with a thin piece of lace covering the breast line and black jewels on the front that formed a small star, and small, faded pink shorts with thin white stripes. She never wore matching clothes to bed. She was barefoot, toenails painted dark blue. She never wore slippers, either.

He folded his arms and rested his chin on top of them, watching as she sat down at her vanity and began brushing her hair. He was glad that she'd gotten rid of her afro. It now fell about her shoulders, stick straight, with the ends cut and leveled to perfection. His Saiyan hearing caught the soft sound of her humming as she brushed through her blue tresses, detangling knots that weren't there. Finally, she pulled it back and quickly braided it, putting a hair-tie on the end so it wouldn't come undone.

He was surprised. Normally she just put it in a scrunchie.

After finishing her hair, she took off her rings, her class one and the two she bought just because they were pretty, then picked up a tear-drop shaped bottle painted in pink, opened it, and dumped out a thick substance into her hands. He smelled the faint scent of vanilla, deducting that she must have felt very relaxed to choose that scent in her lotion, because otherwise she'd have chosen strawberry or soft lilac. He watched as she rubbed the lotion down her freshly shaved legs (he knew that from the sweet scent of shaving foam), and chuckled as she cursed when she realized that there was a small cut on her ankle.

He wasn't really sure when these times became a part of his routine. An unusually bad case of insomnia had brought him outside to swing in the trees one night (he wouldn't lie, he was most comfortable outdoors), and the female had been up just as late as he, though it was most likely because she'd gotten another crazy idea to work on in the lab. Curious to see what she did all day when she wasn't fixing things or bitching him out, something inquisitive in him had sparked, and he stayed in the tree, watching her. He found himself enamored with her simple, yet strangely complex routine, and found himself sitting in that same tree the next night. After failing to convince himself that he was only bored to be doing so, he came back again and again, until at some point, he realized he was addicted to her.

He didn't know how to stop it, either.

Woman, as he often called her, rose suddenly, picking up a small, sleek pink object with white wires attached. She unwrapped the wires and stuck the ends in her ears, and the pink thing suddenly lit up. She brushed her thumb against the white buttons underneath the screen until she found something she liked, then plopped into bed with a book. Climbing under the covers, she read by soft orange lamplight.

This was normally the most boring thing she could have chosen to do after she had gotten ready to sleep, in his opinion, but tonight was different. The female wasn't reading some sappy romance story, not this time. Every couple of minutes, she would turn the page and laugh or giggle out loud, smiling and covering her mouth with her hand so she wouldn't rouse anyone else. She was reading a comedy.

Well, he wasn't one for comedies, but he enjoyed her laugh. It was strangely contagious, and he found it amusing when she snorted.

Unfortunately, that didn't bode well for him. Bulma read something hilarious and snorted again, and Vegeta accidentally chuckled out loud. He froze when he realize his mistake, and flinched when Bulma suddenly lowered her book. He was suddenly resting on his haunches, pressing himself against the trunk and into the shadows. She couldn't find him. That would be a blow to his pride from which he would never recover. Embarrassment and shame burned his cheeks crimson, and his body tensed, ready to flee at any given moment.

In her room, Bulma put down her book and took out her earphones. Though she most often had her music blaring, tonight she had kept them on a low, quiet level, and she knew she'd heard something that wasn't a part of the song. She climbed out of bed and looked out the window, glancing around. "Vegeta?" she called softly.

_Shit, she knew - _

Bulma sighed and turned back to her room. This time, she closed book, shut off her Ipod, and turned out the light. She climbed under her purple covers and laid her head on her pillow, her blue eyes staring into the darkness for a while before they finally drifted shut.

He waited in the tree for a while more until he felt her ki regulating evenly, in a way that only came with sleep. Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, he leaned forward in the tree, his hands gripping the branch as he balanced himself. Her scent was carried up to him by the soft, wispy breeze that fingered his hair and tried to carry it downwind; it was sweet and tantalizing, making him lick his lips in want. After deciding that it was a _really_ bad idea, he slowly floated down and landed on her balcony. His bare feet stopped where the smooth tile met the fuzzy, light brown carpet of her room, his hands resting at his sides in a deceivingly relaxed manner. The moonlight that shown from the half-lit orb delicately graced his dark skin, as if subtly urging him to stay in the shadows.

Another gust of wind blew. To his dismay, the doors of her balcony were pushed farther open, and the hinges squeaked loudly. Before he could move, Bulma had bolted upright in bed.

She was a light sleeper.

Bulma blinked as her blue eyes locked on the figure on her balcony, and to his surprise, a small smile lit her face. "I knew I saw you."

He froze, then asked bluntly, "Then why the hell did you change clothes with the damned curtains wide open?"

She giggled a little. "Well, if you'd actually been looking, you'd know I've been putting my clothes on in the bathroom for a week."

He blushed. "I didn't -"

"C'mere, Saiyan."

The carpet felt soft underneath his feet.


	3. Marshmallows

**Prompt: Smell**

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**Chapter 3: Marshmallows**

He frowns down at them from the rooftop. The woman's delicate features are lit by both anger and dancing flames, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits and her brows furrowed. Her full lips are open wide and moving swiftly, murderous shrieks of hateful words pouring through. In front of her, her mate stands with a similar expression, though his yelling is somehow much quieter. Both of them are clearly pissed off, and if their yelling didn't tell him that, then their body language surely did. Even from where he stands, he can see the male's muscles flexing with restraint, and the woman's tiny frame nearly quaking with rage. He frowns more sharply, because he wonders if the male will hit her. He doesn't know much of romance, but he knows that male Saiyans _never_ hit their females (though for all purposes, that may have been because they were afraid of getting whopped).

Suddenly, the male's yelling get much, _much_ louder, and Vegeta winces at the sharp noise. The woman falls silent until the male finishes, and when he does, he turned around on his heels and storms away. Only then does she let out a very colorful word, in the loudest scream imaginable. Vegeta winces again, and he feels sorry for Earthling men .

Earlier, he had retreated to the rooftop to stare at the stars. In all honesty, he hates the stars with all his might (most were planets he'd probably have purged by now, were he still in Frieza's army, and more still were home to people who would _love_ to slaughter him), but they are the only familiar thing he knows. It was quiet on the rooftop, peaceful, before the female and her mate came outside. They had built a fire, and took out paper plates and food. They had put fluffy, white cylinders on sharp sticks peeled of bark and stuck them in the flames, and the scent of it had made Vegeta's mouth water.

Even now, nearly an hour later, he swallows hungrily. It smells _heavenly_. He smells warm sugar and melted chocolate, and faint cinnamon woven among the scent of burning maple. He licks his lips, leaning forward on his hands and knees as he stares at the fire, where the woman snatches a black, crispy lump on a stick that had been sitting there for a few seconds too long. She yanks the lump off with a flick of her nails and quickly chucks it angrily into the darkness behind her, then stabs another fresh, clean white one onto the pointy end and shoves it into the fire. He breathes in the air deeply, wanting to taste the source of that sugary smell _so bad_, but his pride won't let him go down there and ask for it…

She takes the sugary thing out of the flame and sandwiches it between a thick piece of milk chocolate and two graham crackers, and he envies her, because he has tasted those before and they're delicious too. She takes the strange little sandwich in both of her hands, the white thing and the chocolate melting and squishing out the sides in slow motion, and takes a small bite while she scowls. The white, solid sugar (or at least, that's what it looks like to him) fills with air bubbles, which pop as the melted substance stretches in a long, thin line from the sandwich into her teeth until she pinches it between two fingers and puts the excess in her mouth.

And _oh, _he can smell the sugar...

He sits there, scowling and debating with himself while his stomach growls because the female's idiot dame has gone somewhere and he hasn't had dinner, and at some point he just decides _oh, pride be damned_ and climbs to his feet…

Bulma yelps and drops her s'more as he lands with a thud on the other side of the campfire. She covers her mouth with her hand, as if that would erase the fact that she screamed, and tries to still her pounding heart. "You scared me, Vegeta!" she shrieks.

He ignores her and blinks, staring at the bag of what she knows to be marshmallows. "What are those?" he asks.

Now she blinks, and follows his gaze. She picks up the bag of marshmallows and holds them up so he can see. "These?"

He nods.

"These are marshmallows. You make s'mores with them." She pauses, and out of loneliness, asks, "Do you want to try one?"

He nods again, eagerly, and she gives the smallest of smiles.

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**Okay...so I read somewhere that marshmallows don't really have a smell...and I dunno how people came to that conclusion. I wear glasses/contacts, so I guess the rest of my senses are a bit sharper than most...anyhow, my most awesomest Chem teacher evar took us into lab last year and used (clean) flame burners to roast mini marshmallows and put them with chocolate chips and teddy grahams, and I dunno, but it smelled hella good to me! **

**So there you go. **

**Two more chapters left!**

**REVIEW WHILE YOU _CAN_!  
**

**~KimiruMai**


	4. Clang

**Post Cell Saga chapter.**

**Prompt: Sound**

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**Chapter 4: Clang**

He is training, so he can't really hear anything in the outside world. The GR is humming, the red lights flashing, bots shooting at him. He can't hear a thing. He is totally cut off from the outside world, just the way he likes it. He can't hear his son crying, or the comforting coos of his mother-in-law. He can't hear the incessant muttering of his father in law, who is currently working on some type of strange invention that Vegeta really doesn't care about, and he can't hear any noise coming from the onna at all.

This is because she is down in the lab.

Or at least, he thinks she is down in the lab. That's where she was last, as far as he knows, as far as he is concerned. He sensed her down there, all barricaded up, even at the early hour he trained; she is working on something important. He doesn't have an inkling of a clue as to what that might be, nor does he care. Vegeta is not the type of person to concern himself with such matters.

He floats in the air, the toes of his shoes about 5 feet off the ground, the bots passing his attack to each other like a beach ball, and he dodges it every time. Suddenly, leaping out of the pattern they've fallen in, one in front of him throws it to one behind him, which directs it at his back immediately. He has no time to whirl, so he leaps higher in the air and arches his back, gracefully back-flipping over the energy ball. It crashes into a wall, too low for any bots to catch, and leaves a heavy dent.

Vegeta scowls, already hearing the screams he'll get for that one. How the female hates dents.

He hates them too, but he hates her screeching more.

He sighs, and reaches for the dial to turn the gravity up. He no longer feels the burn in his muscles that means he is improving. If he cannot beat Kakarot in real life, then he will beat the baka in the afterlife, where he is no doubt training with the gods…

An explosion.

There is an explosion, one he should not be able to hear. Shock blooms on his face, and he wonders how it's possible that he could have heard it. The answer comes to him the second he thinks the question. It's a stupid question, really. He heard it because it was _loud_, and it was _loud_ because it was _big_.

And because he knows that his son is outside with his in-laws, he knows that it could only come from one possible place.

Without thinking, he tears out of the GR so fast that it rips the door off the hinges. Out of the corner of his eye, he briefly takes note of the Briefs, who are standing there in shock, not at him, but at the smoke coming out of the tiny window near the foundation of the compound, the only window to Bulma's lab. They stare at him as he nearly stumbles running down the stairs of the GR, trying to get to the house, when it finally registers to them that something is _wrong_ and that they should call somebody.

He tears through the house so quickly that sometimes he skids and breaks apart walls when he doesn't stop. It seems like an eternity before he finally reaches the stairs to her lab, literally leaping down them and trying to open the door.

It is locked.

A howl of rage escapes his throat, and he rams his body into the door so hard that the 5 foot steel door has a good sized Vegeta-shape dent in it. It's a silly thing to do, because he could just blast it open, but he won't think of that till later. Right now, all he feels is a primal rage that calls for _violence_.

The door breaks of the hinges at the second hit, now nothing but crumpled scrap metal. It makes a loud _CLANG!_ that makes his ears ring, and smoke immediately floods through the doorway. He chokes and sputters, but even so, he only covers his face with his arm and dives in the room.

Everything is on fire.

He smells burning chemicals, and he can barely see two feet in front of his face. Flames crackle loudly, and if he'd stopped to listen, he'd hear the soft drops of melted metal on the floor.

It strikes him then that the woman couldn't have possibly survived.

Something sharp digs in his chest, and he feels like his heart has stopped. It's the same numbing sensation that he felt when Mirai Trunks died, the same feeling that made him so foolishly lash out at Cell, and he wants to lash out again, but he can't because there is no enemy, only fire.

Softly crackling fire.

He digs his fingers into his hair and screams his loss.

Then, there is another noise. It's also loud, a big, extravagant _Clang! _and _Crash! _A large piece of metal slides off a pile of former computers and broken glass, and there is a body underneath with a head of blue hair.

He has her in his arms so quickly that she doesn't have time to gasp for smoky air before her lungs are met with the crisp air of a living room with open windows. Her lower leg is twisted strangely, and there is a thick stream of blood on her forehead. Her skin is covered with scratches welling with blood and dark, already purpling bruises, and she is covered in soot. Tears stream down her cheeks as she sobs; she is scared.

Vegeta clutches her to his chest, his eyes wide with panic and his fingers shaking as he buries them in her blue hair. Her tears soak his skin as she buries her face in his throat and wraps her arms around his neck. "I'm okay, I'm okay," she says, but whether this is a reassurance to him or herself is unclear.

At some point, she calms and draws back to look at him. His eyes are still wide, his eyebrows knitted, almost as if he is looking through her, but not at her. He is frightened. The explosion has scared him. She sobs again and kisses the corner of his mouth, which is hard because she is crying, at which he squeezes his eyes shut and pulls her to him again. He holds her for a long time, and snarls at the paramedics when they arrive and try to take her. He lets no one touch her, and he flies her to the hospital on his own.

He hopes he never hears an explosion in his house ever again.

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**I was reading a fanfiction a while ago, in which Vegeta goes into her lab and finds her coated with a red liquid (which is actually some type of tool that she's using, I forget what it's called), and thinks it blood. Then I rewatched the episode where the GR exploded, and thus this chapter was born. Enjoy, only one more left!**

**~KimiruMai**


	5. Morning

**Last chapter, peoples! :') I hope you guys like this. **

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Akira Toriyama. **

**Song Prompt: Little Wonders ~ Rob Thomas**

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**Chapter 5: Morning.**

It's morning. The birds chirp softly, shaking the dew drops off their feathers. The sun gleams off each blade of grass, doused in that same dew as the birds, and the world is just waking with a soft intake of morning air.

Sunlight flows in from the balcony windows, gentle and full of warmth. It coats the room in a golden yellow hue that gradually gets brighter as the sun rises, and one of the two in the bed begins to stir.

Blue eyes open slowly, peering at the open window through matching lashes. She breathes in slowly, lets it out even slower, like a sigh, and glances over her shoulder at her sleeping husband. Mornings that she wakes first are rare, and she enjoys them. It's 7:00 now, but he's tired from his late night training. He had no nightmares last night; he deserves to rest.

His arm is over her body, heavy with muscle and promising protection. His features are halfway buried in her hair, his nose at her temple, his lips just barely brushing the top of her ear. She smiles quietly, rolls over slowly, and buries her face into his chest. He grunts and shifts in his sleep, but falls still after he's settled his chin on top of her head. She slides her thin arm underneath his, wraps it around his waist, and lets her fingers trace the scars on his back. One by his ribcage that came from Frieza, another at the base of his spine where his tail used to be, another from the recent fight with Cell, one from Trunks (she smiles at the thought of her future baby boy), one from when Android 18 slammed him into a mountain, and yet another from Frieza that would be accompanied by many others.

The skin is a bit ragged over the scars from Frieza, but the rest of the skin was healed quickly with senzu beans, and is as smooth as the skin that is unmarked. His body is warm, warmer than hers. She hasn't needed extra blankets in the winter since they got together. She loves it, even in the summer when she wakes up sweating.

She smiles again, her breath flowing against his pectorals. She looks at his shoulder, where there is another scar that came from training. It's from when the gravity room blew. She kind of likes that scar. In a way, she did that to him. It was like she branded him as hers before she even knew it. And he doesn't mind it; he wears his battle scars proudly, so it's okay that she likes it.

If she tilts her head, she can touch the scar with her nose. If she leans forward, she can press her lips to it. Instead, she takes her arm from around his middle and runs her thumb over it gently. Then she notices that he is watching her with very alert, dark eyes.

She looks back at him for a moment before she looks back at his shoulder and returns to strumming the scar with her fingers. "How long have you been awake?"

He watches her silently for a moment, his eyes following the pattern her fingers are making on his skin. "A while," he says finally.

"Hmm."

"Hmm, what?"

"Nothing."

He pushes her hair out of her eyes and fingers the soft, stick straight blue strands. "Hn. What else do you do to me when you think I'm unconscious?"

She laughs and kisses the line of his jaw. "All _kinds_ of things," she says, batting her lashes.

His fingers curl around the spaghetti straps of her pink tank top, his other hand gripping her thigh, and a low growl rumbles in his throat. "Vulgar woman," he murmurs.

A little over an hour later, the sun has brightened significantly, and the dew has disappeared into the ground. They lay side by side still, their legs tangled, and their bodies completely naked. He moves his callused hands across the smooth skin of her stomach, just a little bit hardened with girly muscles that she gained after she'd had the baby. He pokes her a little; she objects with a squeal and smacks his arm. He chuckles and returns to playing with her hair.

She watches him with flushed cheeks, and smiles when she sees that his skin is still flushed as well. She brushes the tiny pricks of hair that have grown on his lips overnight with her fingertips, and gives a small grin as she suddenly thinks of something. "What if you grew a mustache?" she asks teasingly.

He looks up from his study of her body, one thick black eyebrow raised. "Not on your life, woman," he says.

She laughs.

He runs his thumb over her upper lip in return. "And what if you grew a mustache?" he mocks.

She pinches his nose, and he snorts. "Not on your life, man," she says.

He smirks at her and snaps his teeth softly at her fingers. She draws back, even though she knows he wouldn't really bite her, and pulls on his hair. He shuts one eye at the sharp tug, then pulls on her hair in retaliation. "Don't be such a child," he chides.

"Why don't you take your own advice?" she returns.

"Because I'm not a child, I'm a man."

"Well then, I'm a lady."

He snorts again, though this time with laughter.

She sighs and leans into his arms again, curling against his torso and closing her eyes. His skin is warm. "Hmm," she says.

"Hmm, what?" he asks, running his fingers in the hairs at the base of her neck. Her skin is cool.

"Nothing," she says. She smiles.

They are peacefully quiet for the rest of the morning, just lying there, touching.

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**It's ovaah T.T**

**Last chapter was kinda cute I think. The mustache thing makes me laugh. Sometimes when my dad goes on long hunting trips he comes back with this scruffy beard and a mustache and me and my family debate for hours on whether or not he should shave it off, even though he always does. **

**Anyway, this has been pricking in the back of my mind for a while now, and it's finally surfaced. Yay! I hope you guys liked it. Thanks for adding my stories to your follows/faves, all of them. Love you all so much! *hearts***

**Review please! **

**~KimiruMai**


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